DIVORCE
by VanillaAshes
Summary: A version of how Bobbi's and Hunter's divorce went.


**Author's Note:**

 **So, this is an idea of how Bobs and Hunter's divorce could have gone. I had an idea about what I was going to write, then I started writing and something completely different came out-not what I planned. But, I've decided to post it anyway, because I like it and I wrote it.**

 **Thank you to my beta; ThisVioletofMine. :D**

* * *

Lance and Bobbi were standing at opposite ends of their living room, both with killer expressions on their faces. They were mid argument, but this one wasn't ending- neither of them would make the first move to stop it or divert their attention onto a different topic or activity. There was an estranged silence between them, one that was deafening. Lance removed the cloth from his bleeding arm and dropped it onto the table- and that was enough to set them both off again.

"We have a trash can for a reason," Bobbi informed him, almost sarcastically, but there was a tone of impatience and annoyance in her voice.

"You want to talk about _trash_?" he responded, copying her American accent on the last word. "Your bags are dumped all over the floor! We have a cupboard for a reason." He mocked.

Bobbi bent down and grabbed one of her bags, throwing it at him. "There, I moved it!" He caught it-just clothes-and tossed it into the open cupboard to the side. "That's not even the right cupboard!"

"Does it look like I give a shit?" he asked her. "Why don't we just shove everything in there? It'll make the place look tidier-you like tidy! You're damn obsessed with tidy." He negotiated sarcastically as he began picking up random objects and throwing them into the cupboard; a few books, cushions, another bag, a pizza that was still in its packaging.

Bobbi stormed over, catching his arm to stop him, "You're acting like a child!"

"Right, I'm a man child," Lance inputted. He swung the cupboard door closed and then kicked it so it closed properly. "If I'm so immature, why did you marry me in the first place?" He questioned.

They were a lot closer now, within breathing distance of one another, close enough to touch, close enough to kiss, close enough to put a halt on this argument-but neither of them moved any further. They were both too stubborn to be the one to end it this time.

"You are not the man I married. You've changed." Bobbi replied with disgust as she stepped away from him, shaking her head like she couldn't believe she was stuck with him.

Lance's eyes flashed with hurt, anger, and annoyance as he turned away from her for a second. He was about to walk off but didn't. He turned back quickly, which almost caught her by surprise. "You're no picnic either, love. What happened to the spontaneous, passionate, exhilarating woman I knew? The one who pulled me out of bed at 3 in the morning to go skinny dipping? Where's the woman I married, because I haven't seen her around here in months."

Bobbi took a deep breath, the mention of happy memories during a fight bringing mixed emotions.

"Maybe she died being stuck with you!" she accused with a growl. "It's exhausting having to deal with you! You go out drinking; after an argument, you run away like a little boy for days, sometimes over a week! Maybe she got fed up of waiting and left!"

"So I got stuck with the obnoxiously arrogant, evil and sarcastic shell of a person?" he asked rhetorically, shaking his head. "I'd rather _she_ left!"

Bobbi scoffed; somehow meters were now between them, the argument literally separating them. She pulled off her ring and after a second of hesitation threw it directly at him.

"Fine… I'm gone." She said quietly before grabbing her go-bag and walking out of the house.

Lance stood there, gobsmacked. He had managed to catch her engagement ring after it hit him in the face, but couldn't move. He stared at the open door for what seemed like hours before finally walking over to it. She was gone.

He closed the door slowly.

* * *

Lance sat on the couch waiting for her until the afternoon of the following day. He had attempted calling her on two separate occasions over the last 19 hours, but the call had been rejected after two rings. Finally he stood up; the marriage had been over ages ago, they both knew it, but neither of them was willing to admit it. He aimlessly walked into the bedroom.

The bed was still unmade as they both had to rush out the morning before the fight-they were both late, the last morning together they had spent the time tumbling around in the sheets with passion. He slipped her ring into his pocket after realizing that he was still holding it. With slow steps he walked to the cupboard and pulled out the large suitcase; they had spontaneously brought a set of three suitcases when they planned their honeymoon. They had never used the biggest one, even when they packed both of their things in the same suitcase; the biggest was _too_ big. But now, as Lance was packing his whole life into one suitcase, he half-hoped it wouldn't be too big-he hoped his life here meant more than a medium-sized suitcase.

He placed it on the bed, unzipping it and looking at the amount of space. With a sigh he turned to the wardrobe and began taking his clothes out and placing them in the suitcase. Then he moved on to the drawers, emptying them of his clothes too. Then he went into the bathroom, collecting his toiletries, then the kitchen afterwards to gather the few mugs, plates, cutlery and mixing bowls that were actually his before meeting Bob. The next rooms he emptied of only _his_ things were the living room, cupboard, spare room, and hallway.

He picked up a framed picture of him and Bob, which laid on the bedside cabinet. It was taken during their honeymoon, on one of the rare days that they managed to make it to breakfast. There were many items that were technically owned by both of them, some that he didn't want to part with, and some that were too painful to even look at as they reminded him that he wanted to unpack right now and pretend everything was fine.

He took the photograph and the two pillows from his side of the bed before zipping up the suitcase. The pillows made the suitcase look a lot fuller than it was. With slow strides he dragged the case through the house, then stopped at the front door and put it down. He walked to the landline-which he was certain he had never used-and picked up the pad of paper and pen-which he also hadn't used-and wrote her a quick note.

 _Don't die out there._

Then he left.

* * *

It was a week later when Bobbi returned-she was called out on a mission the morning after the fight-and noticed immediately that something wasn't right.

"Lance?" she called, but a large part of her knew he wasn't going to answer. She walked further into the house, and decided to put her bag into the cupboard, but as she opened it a sinking feeling entered the pit of her stomach-the pizza was laying on top, obviously defrosted. Why hadn't Lance picked it up? That was his favorite. Dread filled her as she dropped her bag and searched the house. "Lance, you here?"

When she entered their bedroom, the first thing she noticed was the missing pillows on his side of the bed, and then the missing photograph-that was one of her favorites. Slowly she turned and stepped towards the wardrobe. She opened it carefully; upon seeing his clothes missing, she stepped back suddenly, as if burned. She looked around, panicked, looking for any indication that he had not left her-but all of his personal belongings were gone. There were too many of their belongings remaining for her liking.

She sat down on the bed as she pulled out her phone and dialed his number; it rang three times before going to his voicemail. With a shake of her head, she held back her tears. She refused to cry.

* * *

The next two months were long and exhausting for both Lance and Bobbi; both were waiting for divorce papers-both not wanting to be the one to actually file for divorce- neither really wanting their marriage to end. However, neither was willing to reach out to the other, to see if things could work, because they both know it wouldn't.

Lance was in a coffee shop with Idaho, minutes from leaving for a mission overseas, when a hot brunette approached him. He looked up at her and recognition hit him. She had been present at his wedding, which meant she was friends with Bob.

When she gave him a flirtatious look, he frowned- _did she think that I wouldn't remember, or that I'm stupid enough to fall for it?_ He noticed the brown A4 envelope on the tray she was holding.

"Divorce papers?" he asked with a sigh, downing the rest off his coffee.

The woman looked stunned at being uncovered as he picked up the envelope hesitantly.

Lance stood up; he knew he was being served. He grabbed the papers from her.

"I prefer blondes." He told her before storming out of the coffee house.

* * *

He opened the envelope when they were only about thirty minutes from their destination, ignoring the look he received from Idaho. It was, in fact, divorce papers. He grabbed a pen and signed the papers and then pulled off his wedding band and shoved it in his pocket. But when it clanged with hers, he pulled it back out. As he stood up and opened the door mid flight, he saw Idaho stand up quickly.

"What are you doing? You crazy?" He shouted as he grabbed Lance's arm. Lance threw his ring out into the ocean before letting himself be pulled back. Idaho shut the door before pushing Lance onto one of the seats. "Are you suicidal, man?"

"It's not like I needed it anymore." He replied casually with a small shrug. He looked down at his feet; he didn't want to get a divorce, but it was definitely too late now. "Where are we, exactly?" he asked, realizing that it probably wasn't the best idea to throw his ring into the middle of the ocean. He wrote down the exact coordinates-just in case- although he knew he would never _actually_ dive into the ocean in search of a ring; that would take far too long.

When he got back to America, he sent the papers off. He was now divorced.

* * *

Bobbi never let anybody know how much the divorce affected her. She hid it even from herself, until their wedding anniversary came-then she couldn't stop crying for two days. But nobody knew that.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading**


End file.
